


With the Sun On Your Face

by musicforswimming



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Post-Chosen, Weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-15
Updated: 2005-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforswimming/pseuds/musicforswimming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, God," Buffy groans. "You're not with that stupid law firm, are you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	With the Sun On Your Face

**Author's Note:**

> Now thoroughly Jossed by Season Eight, of course, but oh well!

"You're the Slayer."  
  
Buffy looks up from the book she'd been sorta kinda focusing on, blinking through her fantastic new sunglasses. "Kinda supposed to be a secret identity, so if we could not use that word at top volume, that'd be fantastic." She peers over the glasses' rims at the woman standing there, and takes another sip from her cappucino.  
  
She should be pissed off, probably. Or worried. Or ask questions. But it's hard to get really worked up over stuff in Rome. The place is like some magical sleepy drug, all shades of gold and coffee and sand and what was the point of this again? Oh. Right. She's not really worked up. Just kinda curious, and, well, a little more secrecy would be good.  
  
"Wanna sit?" she asks. There's another chair at the little table out here in the sun, where she's been sipping at her cappucino and supposedly reading. She's reading. Really.  
  
"Sure," the woman says. Buffy takes her in. Tailored suit. Brunette. Looks like she might be all powerhousey.  
  
"Oh, God," Buffy groans. "You're not with that stupid law firm, are you? Look, That Immortal guy or whoever you guys think he is, we went on, like, three dates. It's not a big thing, he didn't tell me about any -- "  
  
"That's not what I'm here about," the woman says, with a little smile that makes Buffy feel a little irritated. Some superior, smirking little smile, with something in its corner that she can't read, although she thinks she could read it if she really tried, really wanted to.. It's kind of like her book that way. She could read it, but the gold and the warmth and the haze make her feel like she doesn't really need to. "Although I  **am**  with that stupid law firm."  
  
Buffy frowns at her then, and pushes her glasses back up, putting her cappucino down on the table. Suddenly the glazey-hazey golden air that makes everything so very chill here is melting, just for a moment, just long enough for her to say, softly, "If Angel wants you to talk to me about -- "  
  
She snorts. "I can tell you right now, I don't take orders from Angel," she says shortly.  
  
"You work for him, don't you?" Buffy asks, and some of the glaze is back, but she's different in her calm, her chill. She is more cautious, just a little. "Did he send you about something?"  
  
"He didn't send me about anything, and I only work for him in the strictest technical sense," the woman says, and her tone is clipped, and it makes Buffy think that maybe they have some common ground here, in the way that they're both sick to death of Angel and Spike and their crap.  
  
Rome made her more patient about a lot of stuff, but that -- on that issue? She's totally not getting more laid-back. Done and done, thanks very much.  
  
"Then what are you here about?" Buffy asks as she picks her drink back up again. The woman lifts a fabulously-manicured hand, turns her head, and Buffy notices as she orders her drink that the scarf she wears around her neck has slipped a little, and there is an ugly wound here.  
  
Buffy says nothing, though, as the woman turns back to her.  
  
"Mostly, I figured we could just chat," the woman says. She smiles then, and it's mocking, although Buffy is starting to think that it always looks like that, no matter if she's cheerful or pissed off or even genuinely happy about something. So it's not so much something personal. "I mean, I don't see us bonding, but, well, you're probably one of the more interesting people to talk to while I wait for my meeting to start." She lifts her arm, pulls her sleeve back a little, revealing a small bracelet, with the letters W and H engraved on it. There's a small stone, as well, one that blinks a little as Buffy looks at it. "To make sure I don't run away while I'm back on this plane," she explains, putting her arm back down. "I can only go a certain distance from Woflram and Hart offices, which are a few blocks that way."  
  
"This plane?" Buffy repeats. "What do you mean, this plane?"  
  
"And I was so subtle about letting you see the wound your high school girlfriend gave me when she was evil," She says. "I'm dead, honey."  
  
"High school," Buffy repeats. "Evil. I think you're gonna have to narrow it down, a lot of people I went to high school with had evil periods. Who was this, now?"  
  
"Cordelia Chase?" the woman offers.  
  
"Oh. So she really was evil? I'd heard a few rumors, but -- "  
  
"Yeah, it was kind of a thing," the woman says, and Buffy thinks that she's mocking her. But again, she doesn't take it too personally, because she's starting to get the hang of this woman, and part of that is getting the impression that she kind of mocks everyone. Which reminds her.  
  
"Who are you, by the way?" she ask cheerfully.  
  
"Lilah," the woman answers, just as easily. "Lilah Morgan." And then Lilah's coffee comes, and she smiles and thanks the waiter in flat Italian. It's technically fine, but there's no accent.  
  
Buffy's been told she has a flawless accent. Lilah didn't even bother to try for an accent. But, then, Buffy lives here. For the time being, anyway. Lilah doesn't even live, apparently, so she doesn't really have as much need for flawless accents.  
  
"So how long were you looking to kill?" Buffy asks. She finally gives up the pretense, closing the book and setting it back down on the table, sitting back in her seat. "We could go sightseeing. This is a great place for galleries, you know. And history."  
  
Lilah smirks, a little, as she sips her coffee, and it's not an entirely mocking smirk this time, which makes Buffy feel oddly pleased with herself. "All cultured out, are we?" she asks.  
  
"I'm here with a Watcher and my little sister, who's kind of a nerd, and in training to be a Watcher," Buffy answers, and smiles a little. "What do you think?"  
  
Lilah returns the smile. And there's still that mocking element, and with every second that passes? Buffy's even more certain that it's pretty much a permanent fixture. Or pretty much near permanent, at the very least.  
  
Mostly, they keep bantering. It's actually kind of fun. There's no real element of danger. Lilah's just passing the time until her meeting, and Buffy... Buffy is just passing the time, period.  
  
Buffy's not exactly sure how they end up in the narrow little alleyway beside the cafe, kissing. Because they had been bantering. And snarking. She thinks they might have been flirting, that could be how it happened. But she doesn't question it, for once. They're just passing time, after all, and that's something that has become easier for Buffy, here in Rome. Just passing the time.  
  
Lilah's mouth is warm. She's strong, but Buffy's stronger, although that's kind of to be expected, what with the superhuman strength and everything. Lilah's pretty much just human. Except for, you know. Dead. Not a vampire. This surprises Buffy. But she doesn't question it, just tries to be a little more aware. To remember, as she pins Lilah's wrists above her head, against the wall, with only one hand, not to press down too hard, because she might break something.  
  
It's become second nature, thinking things like that. With years and years of training, practice, work, restraining herself and being careful are a part of Buffy, just something she  **does**. And even if Lilah were dead, and therefore broken things wouldn't kill her, it would still kinda ruin the mood.  
  
"I've got a meeting," Lilah says, and then gives a low, pleased groan as Buffy sucks at her earlobe. She had to stand on her toes to do it, but it's a price she's willing to pay.  
  
Lilah smells amazing. She smells like offices and power, a power that Buffy knows, a little, because it was a power that she'd earned, and Buffy understands that. But it was a different power from Buffy's, she understands that, too. And there's a heat to Lilah's smell, as well, but it's not the heat-smell that's clung to Buffy of California, or the one that she smells of now, the Roman sun.  
  
"Yeah," Buffy murmurs, and kisses the corner of Lilah's mouth. She's careful of the lipstick, but it doesn't seem to smear. Must be that eight-hour stuff. Nice. So Buffy is a little less careful the second time, kissing Lilah full-on. Not for long, or very intensely, because there's still that lipstick taste, even if the stuff itself doesn't come off with the kiss. But long enough and deeply enough to find that Lilah's mouth is warm. Warm and soft and lovely. This is not the kind of kiss that Buffy was used to, but that, she's decided, doesn't make it a bad one. Not by a long shot. "When?" she asks, her lips still brushing against Lilah's.  
  
Lilah looks upward, to her hands, and Buffy laughs, releasing her grip. "Sorry," she says. Not that she is, really, or that Lilah even seemed to mind having her hands pinned. But hey, her mom didn't raise her to be rude, even to undead, probably evil lawyers.  
  
"Couple of hours," Lilah says. She smiles, pushing a strand of hair out of Buffy's face, and doesn't seem to realize that she's doing it. Which is probably why she's so gentle about it, why there's that fond smile on her face. It doesn't seem like she'd let Buffy see it on purpose.  
  
Buffy considers this. "My apartment isn't far," she offers, and then it's out, and she is at once proud of herself for saying it and more than a little bewildered. 'Cuz, did she just invite said undead, probably evil lawyer  **up to her place**?  
  
Lilah seems surprised, too. Buffy guesses that she's heard about her. And that the Buffy's she's met in Rome doesn't fit with what she expected to find.  
  
But the surprise is only there for a moment. Can't let 'em see it, right? Buffy understands that. She understands tactic. And then Lilah's smirking again, although it's less mocking this time. More pleased. "Sounds good to me," Lilah says.  
  
Buffy grabs her book. Leaves the coffees, which are mostly gone, anyway. They keep snarking, all the way to Buffy's flat, and they keep snarking after, when they're both wandering around the flat naked, eating the grapes Buffy's pulled out. The sun is warm and golden and eternal about them, and they'd look like a painting if they weren't both so skinny.  
  
But that's probably just as well. Buffy likes it better not being a painting. She likes knowing that it's real.


End file.
